What Was Your Past, Jack?
by Droiture LeReve
Summary: Jack's backstory as through my imagination. Jack's a Jewish teenager living in Germany during the Holocaust. This is the story of how he evaded the concentration camps through deceit, treachery, and skill. RATED M!
1. This is Who We Are, This is How We Live

Note: Finally, after procrastinating forever and ever, here is the prologue to _What Was Your Past, Jack?_ ! Yay!

I don't own Nightmare Before Christmas, but I do own my brain, and that's where this idea came from. And note, parts of this are going to be in German, although I would have liked to find an online translator to translate into Hebrew for me, but I guess I'll have to settle for German. Enjoy! If you review, I'll tell you what the German parts mean!

Prologue:_ Das Ist, Wer Wir Sind, Ist Das, Wie Wir Leben _(This Is Who We Are, This Is How We Live)

_Das war vor langer Zeit_

_Länger, jetzt wo es scheint_

_In einem Platz werde ich mich immer in meinen Träumen erinnern_

_Für die Geschichte, die Sie vorhaben erzählt zu werden_

_Ist ebenso echt, und ebenso wahr wie die Knochen, die ich wirklich halte_

_Weil Sie mich meine Vergangenheit fragten, und Sie recieve_

_Aber warum Ihnen gerade erzählen? Sie verdienen zu sehen..._

You know me as Jack Skellington, the Pumpkin King. You know me as someone who's just... always been there. I've always been the Pumpkin King, right?

Very wrong.

You asked me how I died. You asked me about my life as one of the mortal beings. Well, I don't usually do this, but you're an exception. I'll tell you. Listen up, now, because I'm only telling this story once. I already had to live through it, now you want me to relive it? Oh boy.

Hey! Stop looking the other way! I'm not telling this story for my health! That's better.

It was a long time ago

Longer now that it seems

In a place I will always remember in my dreams

For the story that you are about to be told

Is as real, and as true as the bones I do hold

For you asked me my past, and you shall recieve

But why just tell you? You deserve to see...

End of Prologue

Well, what do you think so far?


	2. Skellet Jack

Note: Well, here's chapter two!

I'm writing this story as a personal shout out to my friend Eddie, who's Jewish and loves the fact I'm doing a story about the evils of the Holocaust. Plus, he loves Nightmare Before Christmas! This one's for you, Eddie!

I don't own Nightmare Before Christmas. Tim Burton does.

Technically, _Skellet Jack _means Skeleton Jack, but that's the closest I could get to "Jack Skellington". So, from here on in, Jack's name is Jack Skellet. Okay? Plus, it's to my knowledge that the nickname Jack is another nickname for Jonathan. I believe. So bleh. -sticks tongue out-

I'll usually put the English translations for the German terms near to the German terms themselves, so you'll figure it out. For instance, I put the word "passion" near "_Leidenschaft" _because that's what the word means. You'll figure it out, you're smart like that.

Chapter One: _Skellet Jack _(Jack Skellington)

I was born Jonathan Isiah Skellet Jr. on October 31st, 1930. I know, it's ironic. The King of Halloween, actually being born on Halloween? The idea is laughable.

Anyway, yes, that was when I was born. I was born to Jonathan Isiah Skellet Sr. and Ginamaria Engel, the only child in a family that so desperately wanted a daughter. Instead they got me. I'll admit, I was a bit feminine-looking for a boy, but I was still a boy. And thus, I could tell they were disappointed.

My father always expected great things of me, even to the point where it was literally impossible to do the things he wanted me to do. I could tell he was stressed, just trying to make up for the fact he so wanted a daughter and instead was saddled with a son as inept as me. I wasn't particularly skilled in anything but music and dancing, which weren't really preferable career choices for men back then. Personally, I know my father always wanted me to be a shoemaker. As if a life of making shoes for people's smelly feet would satisfy me!

I know I was being a bit selfish. But I couldn't help it, really. Singing and music were my _Leidenschaft, _my passion.

I was always closer to my mother. I could talk to her more easily, tell her about the things I wanted to talk about. I could sing freely in front of her and not receive a sharp smack in the back of the head for "feminizing the house of my fathers." My mother loved my voice, she told me. She said "Jack, my _Sohn, _my son, your voice is of the angels on earth. Please, sing me another tune from your heart." And so willingly I obeyed.

I remember, the first time I ever heard of anything having to do with Germany's growing stress over the Treaty of Versailles. My father burst suddenly into the house, a look on his face like that of a wounded cat.

"They are coming! We must leave." The last sentence dripped with regret and anger.

"Who are coming, my husband? Why are you nervous?" I remember Mother saying.

"_They, _Ginamaria! _They _are coming!" Father said slowly, as if talking to someone who was stupid. Mother's hands quickly flew to her mouth.

"You don't mean..."

"It is happening. We will be the first to go." I was confused.

"Father, what is going on? Should I be worried?"

"Yes. Go. Run away to Vincent's house. His family will protect you."

"Protect me from what?"

"Do as I say and go!" I jumped at the sudden sharpness in his voice, but obeyed. Vincent was my father's best friend. They were good people. As I rounded the corner, I heard my parents' door kicked in by the _Polizei, _the police. But we had done nothing wrong! I thought. Why would they be coming for us?

I heard struggling. Many years later I would find out my father had killed one of the police with a bread knife. But the others soon took him and Mother away. I was left all alone. Yes, I was with Vincent. But I had never felt more solitude.

I was five years old.

End of Chapter One.


	3. Souvenirs

Note: Well, the third (second if you don't count the prologue) chapter of this is underway! My online translator is acting up, so this chapter will have little to no German words or phrases in it, seeing as how I can't actually speak-slash-understand-slash-know German in any way, I was just going by what the translator said to me. And seeing as how Mr. Translatey Website Computer Stupidness is being stupid, my brain is totally Un-German-Ified. Sorry!

I don't own NMBC, only my own insanity.

Chapter Two:_ Souvenirs _(Memories)

Vincent knelt down before me. He grasped my shoulders gently and looked into my eyes. His eyes, normally bright as the summer sun, were dulled in concealed pain.

"Jack, you must get away from here. Make yourself unknown. They will be coming for us next."

The words cut through me like the sharpest knife.

"B-but if I'm putting us in danger, why did you agree to take me in?!" I asked fearfully.

"I could never say no to Jonathan... He was my very best friend..." Vincent said sadly. One word, one simple word, stood out from the rest. "Was".

"Was? My father... What do you mean, _was?_"

"Your father is dead, son. Admit it. Those police, they weren't just police. They took him to be killed."

I shook all over. I couldn't speak, save for the single disbelieving whine that escaped the confines of my throat.

"No..." I managed to choke out. I wrenched myself from his grip. "No, it isn't true!" I found myself saying the first curse word to ever pass my lips.

"You bastard!" I ran then, bursting out the door onto the cold, unforgiving ghetto streets. I was all alone, in tears, a young man, lost in the cold. And yet, no one even batted an eye. In normal times, possibly some kind old woman who's sons have all grown, would probably have taken me in. But my young eyes were opened to the sorry state my world was in. People barely had enough food for themselves, let alone their families. Let alone any young wandering street urchin like myself. The neighborhood, which I had grown accustomed to and never left anyway, was now blocked off from the rest of the world by an iron fence. The fence had an electric current passing through it, and barbed wire at the top. We were prisoners of our own homes. And here I was, a young boy, only of five years old, but my young eyes could see the pitiful state the world was in. This was 1935. This was war.

There was a finality to my leaving Vincent's house. I knew I could never go back.

But _why??? _I wondered. The question still rings in my skull sometimes, although by now I full well know the answer. But then...

Then I had no clue. _Why _were they targeting us? _Why _was our world being torn from us, our fathers and brothers and lovers killed before our eyes? _Why, _oh _why, _why did those scary policemen at the gates sneer and spit upon me as if I were some wretched starving beast?

I was a faithful Jewish child. I did my chores. I did as I was told. I prayed regularly, so why--

And then it hit me like my father's hand to the back of my head.

I was _Jewish! _I couldn't tell then what my epiphany meant, but I knew it had something to do with my religion...

But then I didn't know. I was five years old, only. Now the memory brings painful feelings attached by a slender thread of doubt.

But then, I was only five, after all.

But something in my mind snapped, and I decided to use some natural skill deep within me.

I had to escape, after all.

But how could a child like me escape with only a sad song and _ballet _as my only weapons? For any other child, it would be impossible.

Well, lucky I wasn't just any other child, then, was I?

I was Jonathan Isiah Skellet, and by God I would use what I had.

Even if what I had wasn't much.

It was 1935. It was the infant form of what would become the second World War.


	4. Und So ich Getanzt

Note: Whee! My translator is back online and the internet's in the hizz-ouse!!!! Whoo! Okay, enough crazy. I just had a lot of mint chocolate and my brain isn't functioning properly. I apologize if this chapter sucks. I wrote the little song that Jack is singing in this chapter, and then I went online and translated it into German. No stealing!

All disclaimers apply. I don't own NMBC.

All dedications apply too. I dedicate this story to my Jewish (and NMBC-loving) friend Eddie Finer, who's intelligent (and sometimes a little disturbing) answers always get our English teacher to finally shut the hell up. Thanks Eddie! -blows kiss-

Chapter Four (or Three without the Prologue):_ Und So ich Getanzt _(And So I Danced)

I was shaking as I approached the officer. He seemed to notice my fear.

_"Was ist los, kleines Kind? Sie scheinen krank." _He said in broken German, obviously a foreign officer who was new and learning. He said the words scornfully, and sarcastically, as if he viewed me like a dog. You know how you call a dog. "Here boy! Come here! Good boy!"

They seemed to view me as some sort of animal to be led to the slaughter. I stiffened up, determined not to show my (still obvious, but at least I was trying) fear.

I began to sing. You know, I was five, just something simple, but I sung.

_"So viele Tage_

_Sich zu erinnern_

_So viele Erinnerungen_

_Tiefer September_

_Der für immer Fund selbst_

_In einer Position des Glaubens_

_Hören Sie meinen Worten zu_

_Hören Sie meinen Stimmenanruf_

_Wie die gewisperte Erscheinung der Nacht..."_

Again, I was five years old. My voice was, of course, not fully developed yet. But the officers were still lulled by my song and relaxed enough to allow me to slip by into the city.

The city was a scary place. Without Mother, I felt alone and cold, as if I were naked in a blizzard. People pushed by me on the streets, roughly telling me to either, "Get a job!" or "Watch where you're going, lousy kid!" I was bumped and pushed mercilessly by a seemingly never-ending current of faceless cattle mooing themselves along the conveyor belt that is city life. And here I was, a small child, caught in the crossfire of the bustling roads, so much different from the deserted, decrepit old suburban homes that made up the fenced-in ghetto. I didn't know who spoke German, who spoke English, or who spoke... well, who spoke anything! I knew no one, and often times I would ask for directions and a clipped, "I don't speak German!" came from the mouth of an Englishman or a "_Quelle langue est cela vous parlez ?" _from a French woman. It baffled me. It seemed they were merely babbling. Me, who had lived only speaking German and Hebrew, had no knowledge of these other languages and hearing the strange tongues from the mouths of total strangers was even more alienating.

But somehow, amidst the struggle and the bustle of life in the city, I found a rhythm in the beat of many shoes along the ground I can, and will, never forget. Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat, Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat...

I danced to that rhythm naturally, forgetting where I was. For that brief, fleeting glory, I wasn't in Germany during the midst of a war. I wasn't dancing on a street corner while strangers threw small coins at me. I was on the clouds, dancing to a rhythm I had found all on my own. It was amazing, but at the same time infuriating, because I knew that somewhere, my father could feel the same rhythm and feel nothing but contempt for a son who tried his hardest but never made it. I tried harder, danced harder, danced _better _than ever before, just as an act of rebellion towards the man I called Father. And an act of love towards my Mother, and to a mystery known as the Lord. I danced to music going on inside my head, the most beautiful music on Earth, more beautiful than Beethoven, more beautiful than Mozart, more beautiful than even the hymns I had loved. It was beautiful because it was a song I could truly call my own.

It was beautiful because I loved it, and it loved me back in a way I knew...

In a way I knew was meant to be.


	5. Nothing Ever Turns Out

Note: Aw come on! What the hell is wrong with my freaking translator? Argh! Well, here's another chapter that's decidedly German-less. Damn.

All disclaimers and dedications apply: I don't own Nightmare Before Christmas and I'm writing this for Eddie Finer.

Chapter Four (Five w/ prologue): _Warum Stellt Nichts Sich Jemals Wie Es Heraus, Sollte? (_Why Does Nothing Ever Turn Out Like It Should?)

After my song had subsided, I stopped dancing and people began to ignore me again, as if I were only visible when dancing. I picked up the small coins and paper money given to me by those stupid people who thought I was some street performer. I put them all in the pocket of my shorts. Then I began walking until dusk, until it got too dark to see anymore.

I was still alone. I know it must sound like I'm exaggerating, like I'm attempting to play up my loneliness. You would have had to be me, alone, a five year old child in the middle of December with not anything but a short work shirt and a pair of shorts on my legs. I was cold!

I struggled into a shop and closed the door behind me.

"Hello, lad! What can I do for you today?" The jolly man behind the counter asked me. He was fat, and happy, and his large belly jiggled when he laughed.

"Um, sir... I-I-I um... I need a place to get out of the cold!" I was nervous, it had to be said. Not a lot of people were so kind to me. It made me suspicious.

"What's wrong, lad?" I noticed the man had an armband on with a big yellow Star of David pinned to it. I didn't know why.

"Well, sir. It's like... I was at home, and my father came through the door, and he told me to run away, and then the police came, and--"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, son. Slow down. It sounds to me like your parents were taken to Auschwitz."

I jumped back a bit. "What is Auschwitz?"

"It's a bad, bad place, son. They work you and torture you until you beg for death but then they don't let you have it. They starve you and dehydrate you, and when they finally believe you're useless they send you to be burned alive."

"H-how do you know this?"

"My son was taken. I believe they'll come after me next. Jewish shops are to be closed down soon, so possibly I can't help you."

"What's wrong with Jews that these men hate us so much?" I asked angrily, tears forming at the corners of my eyes.

"We're just different from them, and so they find reason to hate us."

"But that's not right at all, that's all wrong!"

"I know... but we can do nothing about it! If we try to rebel, we'll only--"

"_NICHT! _I will stand up!"

"Son, you're only a young boy! Don't put yourself in danger now! I understand how you must feel, but it's not worth it. That place is horrible, the worst you can imagine and then some. Live for them. Please. Here, you may stay with me. I know someone who can forge papers. He'll pass you off as a citizen until you can flee."

"_I am a citizen! And I will not flee!" _I shrieked.

"Yes, you must, son! You must! You are not a citizen anymore. Hitler has stripped Jews of citizenship."

I got angry, and uttered another curse.

"And who the hell is Hitler?!"

"He's the man behind all this. All this pain, all this destruction, all this hatred... he is behind it all."


	6. Weggenommen

Note: I had a helluva time trying to get this chapter started. It's called writer's block, people! Anyway, yeah. My Gaia account got hacked... yet again. I wound up "accidentally" trading away everything I owned. Damn hackers! My password was _foolproof, _I tell you, _FOOLPROOF!!! _Well, I guess there's always one fool you can't count on. You know, that one kind of guy that if all the village idiots in every village came together and formed their own village, of idiots, that this guy would be that village's village idiot? You know.

So anyway, yeah, I'm pretty pissed off. And that will come together in this chapter.

Note to all! I have nothing, I repeat, _NOTHING _wrong with Jewish people. I love all people equally. But in this story you will see some slurs against Jewish people. That's because these people are _NAZIS, _people! They don't like Jews. And I don't like Nazis, but for the sake of this story, don't flame me for anything offensive. I mean no offense towards anyone, but Nazis just suck and I wanted to capture their overall suckiness. Thanks for listening!

I don't own NMBC. Tim Burton does, the lucky bastard.

I'm writing this story for Eddie Finer. Who's going to be one _un_lucky bastard if he doesn't help me translate this damn story into Hebrew by week's end! Just kidding, don't panic, Eddie.

Chapter Six (Five without the prologue): _ Weggenommen _(Taken Away)

That jolly old fat man housed me for five years. Five uneventful years, surprisingly, until his shop was closed down and he was forcibly taken away from me in front of my very eyes.

"Let him go!" I screamed, kicking, biting and scratching at the hands of the men who took him away. I was hit with a blunt object, and then everything went black. The last thing I remember is that jolly man reciting the Kaddish under his breath as he was dragged away...

I woke up, and I was _moving. _I stood up and was immediately thrown back to the ground by my own momentum. It seemed I was on a train. I searched for the man who had given me a home and did not find him. Overcome by grief, I sunk to my knees and began to cry until I was struck unmercifully in the back of the head by a familiar hand.

"Stop your sniveling, boy! We'll all meet the same fate either way." I looked up.

"F-father?!" He looked upon me with confused eyes.

"Father, don't you remember? It's me, Jack!" He seemed taken aback, but eventually recognized me all the same.

"S-son? Is that truly you?"

"Yes, Father, it's me!" For the first time in my life, my father seemed overjoyed to see me. He swooped down and engulfed me in an embrace I never thought I'd feel again.

"My son, I am so sorry. Please, forgive a foolish old man. I sent you away when we should have stayed together." I looked around.

"Where's Mother?" He stiffened visibly.

"She's dead, son. I apologize. She died, but she wanted me to tell you something if I ever found you. She said 'Jonathan, if you ever see our son, tell him this. Tell him to never stop singing. Tell him that his song can bring the end of suffering.' My son, can you forgive me?" He asked of me. Tears began to flow down my face from blue eyes dulled with pain.

"Of course, Father. I am sorry I was not the son you wanted me to be."

"No, son, I am sorry. I wasn't the father I was meant to be. I should have been a better father but I was so overcome with my own desire to have a little girl that when you were born, I let my selfishness get in the way of being a good father to my son."

We embraced again, until the train stopped suddenly.

"Everyone off! _NOW!" _Someone shrieked. We were all shuttled off like cattle to the slaughter. Those who did not move as fast as the others were hit. I could swear I heard gunshots close by. My father took a close hold on my hand.

"Son, stay close to me. These damned Nazis will kill us all if we are not careful."

"Nazis, father?"

"Those who believe that Jews are inferior to them. The bastards that are behind all this anarchy." My father was struck in the head by a blunt object and fell to his knees.

"Do you have something to say, Jew?" The man shrieked. He spoke German, but his accent was a little funny to me. I processed it as him being French, but speaking German.

"Nothing at all." My father spat back, standing up. He was struck again.

"Father!"

"Son, go! Run away!"

"I'm not leaving you again!"

"Run! Please! They'll kill us both!"

I turned to run, but blinding pain in my left leg stopped me from going further...

I'd been shot.

End of Chapter


	7. Davongelaufen

Note: Ha ha ha... watching Invader Zim and trying to write a serious fanfiction like this isn't a very good idea... Gonna make me start rambling on about ninja monkey Nazis...

I AM SO SORRY ABOUT THE DELAY. WRITER'S BLOCK SUCKS, IT HAS TO BE SAID.

I don't own Invader Zim or the Nightmare Before Christmas. Only my deep, crushing insanity.

Thanks to Eddie for being Jewish and giving me the idea for this story.

Chapter S-S...Seven? Maybe? Six? Um... I'll figure it out later: _Davongelaufen _(Run Away)

I was saved only by my own desire to keep my father's bloodline alive. I struggled and I crawled away, leaving a trail of my own blood behind in the snow. I stumbled into an alley, silent and dark. Something in the wind caught my eye. There was an envelope crudely taped to one of the trash cans. I picked it up and saw my own name on the front. I opened the envelope and saw something wonderful, something that will have assured that I go on living undaunted by pain.

It was forged citizenship papers from that jolly fat man who had given me a home. How did he know I would be in that alley? How did he know when I would be there, so as to assure that no one else would steal the envelope? These questions did go through my mind, I'm sure, but the one thing that overpowered all other questions, all other thought was: "Thank you." I thanked the fat man, and I thanked the Lord, and I thanked my father for pushing me away once again.

The pain in my leg was gone, the snow having numbed the area with cold. I clutched the envelope to my frozen chest as icy tears slid down my cheeks, tears of joy. I cried, and didn't stop crying until I had a familiar spirit encompass me in the wonder of sleep. I fell asleep in the snow, where I would surely freeze to death...

End of Chapter

Sorry It's so short... The next one will be longer, I promise!


	8. Wie Die Jahre Vorbeigehen

Note: Well, I just got the Nightmare Before Christmas soundtrack, with the extra tracks by the different bands and the such... So I've been mondo busy listening to that. Anyway, here's chapter... Well, chronologically 8 but really it's only chapter 7... Note to self! Stop doing Prologues! They screw with the entire order of things! Argh!

I don't own Nightmare Before Christmas, and I never will, you harping bastards...!

Chapter S-Seven?:_ Wie Die Jahre Vorbeigehen _(As The Years Go By)

I awoke to a strange man hovering over me. He struck me and barked, "Who are you, kid?" I clutched my forged papers tight to my chest and whimpered.

"My name is Jack."

"Do you have a last name?" He asked. Should I give my real last name? Was there a different one printed on the papers? I dared a small glance. Ah. My real name was printed there.

"Skellet, sir."

"Well, Jack Skellet, if those papers you hold are true, we have use of you. Come now!" I got up and followed him.

"Excuse me, sir. Where am I? What may I call you?"

"You are to ask no questions, understood?"

"But sir--"

"Understood?! _Gehen Sie!" _He barked. I responded to his command of "Go!" and hurried my pace. He shoved me into a room with other young men my age. He slammed the door.

I soon realized that no one in the room but me spoke German. One boy spoke Portuguese, and one was French, one was English, and one was Italian. The French and Italian boys could also speak English. But no one else was German, so we all stayed silent. The few who spoke English quietly conversed to each other every once and a while, but of course I had no idea what was being said. I finally could wait no longer. I had to know...

_"Entschuldigen Sie mich, haben Sie die Zeit?" _I asked the young French boy, hoping he had the time.

_"Désolé, je ne parle pas votre langue." _Was the response I got. Which I would learn later as him telling me "Sorry, I don't speak your language." Well, that's just great. I was stuck in a room with four other ten year olds who all spoke different languages.

Finally, the same man from before came in and called us all to attention. The man was multilingual, it seemed, as he called us all to attention in our own languages.

_"Attention! Atenção! Attenti'on! Aufmerksamkeit! Attenzione!"_ He said in English, Portuguese, French, German, and Italian, respectively. We all stood and watched him intently. He beckoned us all to follow. We followed quickly, though we didn't know why. We were all issued uniforms with our surnames on them. I looked around and saw other boys being issued uniforms as well. One fitter looked at me skeptically and asked, "You sure you're a boy?" Now, I could understand her concerns. I did look quite feminine, but it irritated me that she had the gall to ask.

"Yes, I'm sure. Last time I checked." I replied irritably. This day was getting worse and worse. First I get taken from a man I'd grown to love like a father, then get thrown on a train where men beat us with clubs, then get shot (but apparently I was bandaged up before the man woke me up), and now I was having my _gender _questioned by a skinny old lady with far too much makeup on to possibly be healthy. She gave me a scathing look and continued with her work.

Finally, after all that was done, I was pushed into a classroom and told to sit. I sat down in a rickety old chair, rumpling my brand-spanking-new uniform, and sporting my brand new buzz cut. My hair looked ridiculous. _I _looked ridiculous.

Well, at least I was still alive...

But for how long? What was this place? Where was I, and why was I being treated this way? And who was that man?

It would take me years before I knew...


	9. Spielzeit ist Zu Ende!

Note: Well, although you can't see it, sadly, I finally managed to upload Burton's Nightmare font for my computer and am using to type now. It's the type used in the movie, you know, the title where it said Tim Burton's The Nightmare Before Christmas. It's such a pretty font. Anyway, before this stupid note lasts ten hours, on to the disclaimers! I don't own NMBC, nor anything having to do with it. All I own is a squishy Jack plushie that makes sounds when you squeeze its tummy. He sings and giggles. I don't know why.

Chapter Whatever: Spielzeit ist Zu Ende! (Playtime is Over!)

"Hey! Skellet!" I heard another soldier call my name. "Hmm?" I looked up at him. He grinned widely, as if this life were preferable. "Happy Birthday!" He said, holding out a piece of cake. I took it and gave him a half-assed smile. "Thank you." I said. He could sense my discomfort. "You okay, man? You look down. Cheer up! Not every day a guy turns fifteen!" I stiffened a bit. If things had gone right instead of wrong, I would have had my Bar Mitzvah two years ago today. But alas, as the Lord our God found it preferable to send me into this living hell. I was a soldier, and only now did I realize what was going on. Those of us who were unlucky enough to be Jewish, we were being rounded up. Because of those God-sent papers I was safe, for now. But what of the six million others? All being killed as I sat there, not able to do anything. I was a Nazi soldier, and I couldn't have imagined a worse kind of Hell. People barking orders at me this way and that, being threatened with 108 kinds of death if I stumbled during a drill. Any sergeant catches me singing and BAM! It's a sharp blow to the back of the head. It was Hell, and I could not escape.

The soldier who had wished me a happy birthday snapped his fingers in my face, jolting me back to reality. "You okay?" He asked in a gruff, yet concerned tone.

"I'm fine. Just remembering better days." I replied.

"Yeah, those damned Jews took everything from us, didn't they?" I snapped my head away from him, refusing to look at him. He didn't notice. "But once they're all gone, what do you think you'll do? I mean, you gotta get a career, right?"

"Perhaps I'll sing." I said.

"Really? Well, that's a high-risk occupation. What if you never get a record deal?"

"Then I'll take my song somewhere else. Song is in my heart. It is what I was born to do. And I will never falter from that destiny."

"Jesus, all this talk to 'destiny'. You sound like a Jew."

"Well, perhaps their ideals aren't as sick as you seem to think."

"Now, now, now. No more of that bullshit. The superiors hear you saying shit like that and you'll be shot faster than you can say 'Hitler'."

I snorted and turned my back completely.

"Now, come on, Skellet. You're a good guy, I know you are. You'll do what's right."

"What if what is right, isn't what we're trying to do?"

"What do you mean?"

"I admit, maybe some people need to be taught a lesson, but mass murder? The genocide we're committing? How the hell can this be right?"

"We're wiping out a group of unclean people who are tainting this wonderful Earth. It's only right."

"What's only right, is not what this is!" I snapped.

"You really are sounding like a Jew. Let's get you to a doctor or something, you must have a fever or something!" I swung my fist at him, connecting with his jaw and sending him spiraling towards the ground. "Leave me." I ordered.

"Who are you... -pwah-" He spit out a tooth "... Giving me orders?"

I punched him in the face again. "I said leave me! I will not waste my time and energy talking to scum like you!" I threw him out the door and slammed it. My bunk, my rules.

I knew I had just made a huge mistake, one that could cost me my life, but at the time...

I really didn't care.

End of Chapter


	10. Seine Letzten Wörter

Note: So, SO sorry about the million year delay! I got in a bit of trouble and wound up grounded from the computer for a while. So I promise to make this chapter the best I can! Which actually, won't be too, too good because I'm getting a bit obsessed with NiGHTS. Remember NiGHTS? Yeah, that androgynous purple jester has invaded my Wii and taken control of my brain.

Note that the Star of David is also referred to as the Shield of David in some text. My school textbook refers to it as the Shield of David.

So anyway! I don't own NiGHTS, NMBC, or anything else I may mention that belongs to somebody who isn't me.

Chapter 11 (10 if you count the prologue, but I don't, so from now on I'm numbering them as if the prologue didn't count. So this is chapter 10 I hope.): _Seine Letzten Wörter (_His Last Words)

_"Listen to me! Listen, son! You must masquerade as one of them! You must become a Nazi! But look for that moment! The moment you turn and return to those who love you! That moment will always be looming! If you catch the moment too early, you'll be found out and they'll kill you! Catch it too late, and no one will believe you!"_

_"When will I know when the moment has come?"_

_"Believe me, you will know! You will know when the moment has come! Oh, no, here they come! Run!"_

_"What will we do?"_

_"Run, boy! Run, Jack! Run!"_

Those words still haunt me to this very day. I was still looking for that moment, the moment I realize it is time to go back to my people. I didn't quite know when that moment will be, but until I found that moment I kept on looking.

_Left, left, left right left! Left! Left! Left right left! _

The drill orders rang out, loud, clear, and in English. I had picked up minimal English during my time in the military. Just enough to understand what was being screamed at me. Usually it was either "Drop and give me 50, soldier!" or "Shut your mouth and do as you're told, maggot!"

Every day I obeyed my orders, waiting for the moment.

Then came the day. I don't know how I knew, but I knew.

The Russians were closing in from the East, and the USA was closing in from the West.

I heard the news and I smiled. I tore the swastika armband from my uniform and threw it to the ground.

My superiors stared. wondering what I was doing. I snatched the felt-tip pen from my sergeant's desk and drew a large Shield of David on my uniform front.

The sergeant pointed his gun at me, screaming _"Verräter! Verräter!", _at me, "Traitor! Traitor!"

I walked out of his office into the face of an American soldier.

"Sir, in the name of Germany, and the Jewish people, I surrender this concentration camp to your forces. Do as you will, but allow the prisoners to evacuate the premises first, into safety." I said in the best English I could muster. The soldier nodded. He called over his superior.

"Sir, this guy says the camp is ours. We can bomb it, but his only condition is we let all the prisoners inside get to safety."

"Permission granted. Let the prisoners go." He said to me.

I scampered off and began unlocking cells, one after the other, screaming, " _Schnell! Kommen Sie hier heraus! Sie werden die Bomben bald fallen lassen!"_saying, "Quickly! Get out of here! They'll drop the bombs soon!"

People began flooding out left and right. I had my back turned when a thin, emaciated hand laid down on my shoulder. I turned.

"Father?" All I saw in his sunken eyes...

Was love.

Love for the son he never wanted.

Love for the boy who rescued his people.

Love for the _man_who set them free.

Love for me.

"Father..."

I embraced my father. He embraced me.

The last I ever saw of the world of the living was a silver object flying through the sky.

It was a missile warhead.

I embraced the flames like I embraced my father, because if those flames could sear this wretched swastika from my flesh, then it was God's will that I should die in those flames. In my final moments, I thanked my Lord for sending his fiery mercy upon me and my people. I pushed my father away. I said, "_Lebend."_I said, "Live."

Those blessed flames tore my flesh from my bones but I felt no pain. I felt only the caress of six million angels.

End of Chapter.

And it doesn't end here! There's still the epilogue to go!


	11. Schlusswort

Note: The epilogue is upon us! Whoo!

I don't own NMBC.

Epilogue_: Schlusswort _(Epilogue)

"Was that a true story, Jack?" Asked Sally, sitting next to Jack on the couch.

"As real as my skull, my love." He replied, staring off into the distance.

"Did you ever get the name of the man who took you in?"

"Oh, if you listened to the clues, you could figure it out." A knock on the door alerted Jack to reality. He got up and answered the door.

"Mayor! What are you doing here at this late hour?"

"It's only five-thirty, Jack. And I'm here about the Halloween plans."

"Really? Only five-thirty? I could have sworn it was later..."

"No... So anyway, black bows on the black cats? Or...orange...?" The mayor snapped his mouth shut, realizing mentioning orange bows was a stupid mistake after the death of Jack's daughter Annabelle. Annabelle's favorite outfit consisted of a purple dress with a large orange bow in the back. Jack and Sally got far-away, sad looks on their faces.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have--"

"No... no, it's alright. Black bows, if you please..."

"Okay..." The mayor placed his hand on Jack's forearm, the only place on him he could comfortably reach.

"We'll talk later, Mayor."

"Alright." The mayor walked away, then turned to face Jack.

"Remember, Jack. Keep your faith. Things will turn out okay."

"Yes. Thank you, Mayor."

"You too, Sally. Keep your chin up. Halloween is only a few months away."

"Yes, sir." Sally replied. The mayor left, closing the door behind him.

"Thank you... Mr. Heideman."

_Sie fragten, wie ich starb, und Sie Ihr Märchen bekamen_

_Jetzt sehen Sie, warum ich mich weigere zu versagen_

_Warum ich Sachen mache, die manchmal völlig richtig nicht scheinen_

_Oder lassen Sie Dinge schlechter scheinen als kann geheilt werden, leicht sein_

_Dieses Märchen war wahr, und als mein Schädel echt_

_Mein Leben im Nazi Deutschland war Leere und Null_

_Dieses Märchen ist abgeschlossen, und wie Sie sehen können_

_Mein Leben hier, und jetzt, ist Sie gerade und ich._

_Lassen Sie uns für immer zusammen leben._

You asked how I died, and you got your tale

Now you see why I refuse to fail

Why I do things that sometimes do not seem quite right

Or make things seem worse than can be healed be light

This tale was true, and real as my skull

My life in Nazi Germany was void and null

This tale is complete and as you can see

My life here, and now, is just you and me.

Let us live forever, together.

End of Story


End file.
